


Falling in Love with a Mad Genius

by BubbleGumLizard



Series: Mystrade NaNoWriMo 2015 [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Falling In Love, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Masturbation, Sexuality Crisis, Sleepy Cuddles, Teenlock, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5268299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubbleGumLizard/pseuds/BubbleGumLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is fairly sure that he's falling in love with his new best friend, Sherlock Holmes.  The problem is, John isn't gay.  Or is he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling in Love with a Mad Genius

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this story! I'm a little sad that it's over, but that just means that I get to write another Teenlock story. Yay!
> 
> I chose not to use the "Underage" warning for this, because even though Sherlock is under eighteen in this, he is over the age of consent for England, where it takes place (sixteen) and New York, where I live (seventeen). Also, I did my best to be as British as possible, but I'm American, so I apologize for any mistakes in that regard.
> 
> And I broke 100,000 words for NaNoWriMo! I'm still trying for 150,000, which is doable, but challenging. I have about 40,000 words left to go and it's Thanksgiving week, so I'll be crazy busy baking and cooking. Wish me luck!
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this one! Thanks for reading!

John Watson watched with interest as a boy he knew by reputation only did something that was sure to land him in a lot of trouble. Sure enough, it was only moments before a bright flame exploded through the classroom. The boy turned to run out of the room, grabbing John’s arm and pulling him along as the hallway started to fill with smoke. John managed to hit the fire alarm as he was pulled from the building and dragged to where the air was still clear.

“What was that?” John asked, coughing.

The boy grinned at John, his eyes lighting up. “That was a successful experiment.”

***

Sherlock Holmes. That was the name of the boy who landed John in detention for the first time ever. He was a known troublemaker, always doing experiments that were destructive or bio hazards. Now he had nearly caused John to be expelled.

John was sure he was in love.

Well, he would be, if Sherlock weren’t a boy. John wasn’t gay, of course, so that made the whole “in love with a mad genius” thing a bit difficult. John couldn’t stop looking at Sherlock, though, in a strictly not-gay way.

Sherlock was gorgeous. He was tall and thin, with curly hair that John wanted to reach out and stroke. And he was so self-assured. John had known about Sherlock for years, even though they had never shared any classes. Sherlock walked around the school, never caring what people thought about him or his oddities. John envied him his ability to not care if people liked him or if he had friends. He was fine on his own, ignoring all of the nasty things people said about him and doing his own thing.

John had admired Sherlock from afar, always being afraid to approach him. He had seen many other kids try to make friends, only to be rebuffed and embarrassed by Sherlock’s rapier wit.

“Is there a reason you’re staring at me?” Sherlock asked, not looking up from the notes he was writing in his notebook.

“That was brilliant,” John said, unable to keep the awe out of his voice.

“Excuse me?” Sherlock asked, looking up.

“That experiment. I’m terrible at chemistry, so I have no idea what you were doing, but it was brilliant. Did you see the way the flame went up? And the smoke?”

Sherlock looked amused. “That’s not what people usually say when they’re accused of being part of my experiments and get into trouble.”

“What do they usually say?”

“Piss off.”

John chuckled. “They’re idiots.”

“That’s what I tell them. They don’t seem to like it.” Sherlock looked him over. “So, John Watson. You’re going to be a doctor one day.”

John had heard about Sherlock’s ability to know things about people. This was his first time seeing it in person, so he was amazed. He broke into a wide grin, wondering how Sherlock knew John’s plans for the future. “Brilliant,” he said, unable to stop himself from staring.

“I like you, John Watson. I think we’ll be good friends.”

“Really? I’d like that.”

“You have lots of friends. Everyone loves John, with his friendly smiles and his general acceptance of everyone. Why would you want to be friends with the Freak?” Sherlock didn’t seem upset by his nickname, he just accepted it as he did everything.

John was slightly thrown by the fact that Sherlock seemed to know him. He was friends with pretty much everyone, but he didn’t think that Sherlock concerned himself with others, even those who were friendly with everyone. 

“Why wouldn’t I want to be friends with you? You’re a pretty fascinating bloke. Much more interesting than anyone else in school.”

Sherlock smiled. It wasn’t the normal smile that John saw him wear, the smile that clearly said “everyone around me is an idiot.” It was a real smile, delight at what John said.

“Would you like to come over after detention?” Sherlock asked. “There are some more experiments I’m working on that I can show you.”

“Yeah, that’d be great!” John was excited. The more he spoke to Sherlock, the more interested in him he became.

After they had served their time for the day, they set off together to Sherlock’s house. When they arrived, John stopped outside, staring at it. “You live here?” he asked.

Sherlock glanced at the house, nodding. “I thought you knew.”

“Knew?”

Sherlock laughed. “I’m the weird rich kid that got thrown out of all the posh schools. My brother works in the government, so they have to let me stay at our school, no matter what I do.”

John shook his head. He tried not to listen to gossip, which was probably why he didn’t know about Sherlock’s history. He followed Sherlock into the house, which was bigger and more posh than any house he had ever seen. He followed Sherlock up the stairs and into a very large bedroom. “This is your bedroom?” he asked, looking around. The bed alone would not have fit in John’s small bedroom.

Sherlock shrugged. “Is it not normal?”

“No, it’s fine.” He looked at the books on the shelves, seeing some titles that he enjoyed when he was younger. It looked like they had more in common than liking explosions.

“Come look at this, John,” Sherlock said, and John obliged. He watched Sherlock poking around something, listening as he explained all the intricacies of the experiment. John had no idea what Sherlock was saying, but he spoke about it with such passion that

John couldn’t help but be interested. He watched with rapt attention as Sherlock pointed to different things on the desk in front of them and bounced up and down with his excitement, which made his curls tremble in a way that made John bite his lip to stop from smiling like an idiot.

After twenty minutes, Sherlock turned to look at John, his face falling slightly. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

“No, no!” John said. “It’s not boring. I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I could listen to you talk about it for hours.”

Sherlock gave him a curious look. “Why?”

“You make it interesting.”

Sherlock shrugged. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Do you have to be getting home? It’s a bit late.”

John shook his head. “It’s Friday, so it doesn’t matter. As long as my parents don’t get a call that I’m missing school, they’re not bothered. Though I am a bit hungry. Do you want to get some food?”

“Sure. How do you feel about Indian? The owner of the restaurant down the road owes me a favor, so he sends food over whenever I want it.”

“How does a restaurant owner owe you? You’re what, eighteen?”

Sherlock grinned. “Seventeen, actually. I caught a thief for him. He wanted it kept quiet, so he didn’t want to call the police, so I figured out who it was.”

“You should join the police force.”

Sherlock shuddered, sending a text. “No. If anything, I’ll freelance. I think I’m going to go to school for chemistry. They have to have some more interesting chemicals at university.”

“More interesting than nearly blowing up the school?”

“Nearly is the key word in that sentence, you’ll find. That experiment went perfectly.”

John chuckled. They kept talking about Sherlock’s experiments, mostly Sherlock talking and John listening, until the food arrived. When it came, Sherlock brought it upstairs with some plates and they split it up, sitting on Sherlock’s massive bed and sharing an absurd amount of curry.

John set his plate down, laughing. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so hard. Sherlock was telling him all of the most interesting deductions he had made about kids at school, including who was shagging whom and who was secretly pining after whom.

“Is anyone in love with me?” John asked.

“Oh, just everyone,” Sherlock teased. John rolled his eyes and Sherlock grinned. “You are very popular with the girls. Why is that?”

“I like to think it’s my roguish charm.” He caught the pillow that Sherlock threw at him and tossed it back. “Maybe it’s just their low standards.”

“I don’t know, John. You are devastatingly handsome.”

“What about you? Anyone you fancy?”

“Not really my area.”

“Oh, there has to be someone.”

“Well, the boys at our school…” he trailed off and bit his lip as if he had let something slip that he hadn’t meant.

“You’re gay?” John asked.

“Well, it’s all theoretical at this point,” Sherlock said, blushing.

“It’s fine, mate. You love who you love, right?” John asked. It was interesting, though. Hadn’t Sherlock just called John handsome? Did Sherlock fancy John too? That thought didn’t bother John, which was an interesting reaction that he would have to think about later, when he had time to really mull it over.

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? I don’t care what the idiots at school say, but there are enough rumors without confirming anything.”

“Of course. You can trust me. I won’t tell anyone anything about you.”

“Ah. Obviously,” Sherlock said, nodding.

That was a strange reaction, but Sherlock was strange in general, so John let it go. “So tell me about what got you kicked out of the schools,” John said.

Sherlock laughed and launched into an animated explanation of the buildings he had burnt down.

Four hours later, John stretched and looked at the clock on the wall. “Is that what time it is? I’m normally in bed by now.”

“Not at some wild party? It is Friday.”

“No, that’s not me. I’d rather stay home with the telly. Or mad genius.”

Sherlock blushed. John had noticed that when he said something complimentary Sherlock blushed, and he liked causing that reaction in the boy who didn’t care what people thought. “Do you want to stay the night? It’s a bit late to walk home.”

“Yeah, sounds fun,” John said. “Just let me send a text home. Not that they’ll care, but I like to let them know anyway.”

“I don’t know if any of my pajamas will fit you,” Sherlock said after John sent his text, looking him up and down.

John shrugged. “I don’t normally sleep in pajamas anyway.”

“What do you sleep in?”

“Just my pants, usually. But I’ll sleep in my jeans. It’s not a big deal.”

“We have spare bedrooms or you can sleep in here. I don’t…I’ve never had anyone stay the night before, so I don’t know what’s normal.”

John grinned. He wasn’t surprised that Sherlock’s history was lacking in sleepovers. He was a very unusual boy. “I’ll sleep in here, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay. You don’t have to wear your jeans to bed, that sounds uncomfortable. I won’t look or anything.”

“Relax, mate. I don’t think you’re going to jump me or anything.”

“Oh. Okay. There was this boy at one of my other schools who I told about being gay and he may have overreacted slightly. He told everyone that I tried to snog him.”

“Did you?”

“I may have.”

John laughed. “Well, that bloke was probably a wanker anyway. You’re better off without him.”

“He was gorgeous, though.”

“Come on, let’s get some sleep.” He stripped down to his pants, turning his back while Sherlock changed into some pajama bottoms, staying topless.

John watched Sherlock out of the corner of his eye, pretending to do something on his phone while Sherlock checked on his experiments one last time. Sherlock’s skin was creamy white and perfectly smooth. John wondered what it would be like to run his hands over that skin, if it was as soft as it looked. The pajama bottoms hung low on Sherlock’s hips, accentuating his arse. John’s mind wandered to what it would be like to dip his hands below the waistband of those trousers…

Wait.

This was a boy. John didn’t think about boys like that.

Did he?

John forced his attention onto his phone. No response from his mum, but that wasn’t surprising. “Ready?” he asked Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded. He glanced at the bed awkwardly. “Er, is there a side that you prefer?”

John shrugged. “My bed is a quarter of the size of yours. It doesn’t really have ‘sides’.”

“Ah, yes. Well, I like to sleep closer to the door.”

“That’s fine,” John said, climbing under the covers and scooting over so he was near the wall. He propped himself up on one elbow and watched as Sherlock climbed into the bed.

“Lights off?”

“That is generally how one sleeps.”

Sherlock looked at John insecurely, like he thought he was being mocked. “Is that friendly teasing?”

“Yeah. Friendly.”

“Oh. Okay.” He shut the light off. “Good night, John.”

“Good night, Sherlock. Thanks for having me over. This is the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

“Really? I would think that you were always having fun with your friends.”

“I don’t really have many friends outside of school. Those guys are fine for hanging out with when we’re stuck together, but I’m not into the parties or chasing after girls.”

“I thought you dated a lot.”

“Not a lot. I’ve dated some. The girls at our school are all really boring.”

“There are a lot of rumors about you and girls.”

“You can’t always believe the rumors, Sherlock.”

“Really?”

“Really. Other than some snogging, all of my experience is…what did you call it? Theoretical?”

“What’s it like?”

“My theoretical experience?”

Sherlock laughed. “No. Snogging. It seems unpleasant.”

John glanced over at him. It was almost completely dark in the room, but he could just make out Sherlock, looking up at the ceiling. He had a sudden impulse to show Sherlock what snogging was like, to lean over and kiss those perfectly formed lips and murmur how utterly captivated he was by him. He shifted slightly, realizing that his thoughts had caused his cock to become half hard. That wouldn’t do. It had been a long time since he had been at a sleepover, but he was fairly certain that getting erections while thinking about snogging your friend was a no-no.

“John?”

“Oh, sorry. Trying to figure out how to describe it. It’s rather nice, especially if the person has soft lips. It can get a bit wet, but if it’s done right, it’s very hot.”

Sherlock made a soft noise. “I might like to experience that some day.”

“Some day? Not soon?”

“Well, there’s hardly anyone in school for me to snog, is there?”

“You never did tell me if there was anyone you fancied at school.”

“Not really. It’s hard to fancy someone who would never fancy you back.”

“I think you underestimate yourself, Sherlock. You’re a very pretty boy.”

“I may be pretty, but I’m still a boy. There’s no one else at school who’s gay.”

“Maybe there’s someone who’s bi,” John said slowly. He was starting to think that there might be someone in the room who was bi, with the way he couldn’t stop thinking about touching Sherlock and kissing him.

“If there is, it’s hardly likely to be someone who interests me, is it?”

“Well, school doesn’t last forever. You’ll find someone someday.”

“You’re an optimist, John Watson.”

John chuckled. “You like it, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Good night, John.”

“Good night, Sherlock.”

When John woke up, his hand was resting on Sherlock’s hip. He hesitated for a moment before removing it, letting his fingers soak in the feeling of the soft skin. When he rolled away and stretched, Sherlock lifted his head and looked at him with a smile.

“Good morning.”

“Morning. Have you been awake long?” John wondered how long Sherlock had been lying there with John’s hand on him.

Sherlock colored slightly. “Not very long, I just woke up.”

“Good. So, breakfast?”

“Is food all you think about?” Sherlock asked with a grin as he stood.

“No, I sometimes think about other things,” John said, thinking about the dreams he had overnight, a confusing series of erotic dreams that featured a particular curly-haired boy.

They spent the day mostly in Sherlock’s room, doing homework and talking about the experiments Sherlock had planned. John found that he quite enjoyed the quiet silences they fell into while he was busy with his school work and Sherlock was doing whatever it was he did with his experiments. They spent nearly four hours that way in the afternoon, John lying on the bed, surrounded by books. Finally, he stretched and looked at the clock.

“I should probably get home,” he said, unable to keep his sadness at having to leave out of his voice.

“Do you want to stay over again?”

John hesitated. He really did, but he didn’t want to wear out his welcome. “Sure. That would be fun. But...won’t you get sick of me?”

“I don’t think that’s possible, John.”

“Okay. I do need to go home and get some clothes, though. Do you want to come with me? You can see how we peasants live.”

Sherlock looked unsure of John’s intention again, but smiled at John’s grin. “Sure. We can get dinner on the way back.”

“I don’t have any money.” John was worried, he didn’t want Sherlock paying for his food all the time.

“It’s not a big deal. My parents are out of town and they left me money for food. There’s more than enough for both of us.”

Ah, that’s why he hadn’t been introduced to parents yet. He had been wondering why Sherlock’s parents hadn’t appeared to ask who the random boy sleeping in their son’s room was. It was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one whose parents left him to his own devices. He nodded and stood, packing his school books away in his bag and dropping it on the floor. He followed Sherlock out of the house and led the way to his home.

While he threw some clothes in a spare bag, Sherlock stood around uncomfortably. John’s house was much shabbier than Sherlock’s and his room was tiny in comparison. John was embarrassed, but he didn’t feel like Sherlock was judging him, at least not like the other kids at school would have judged him. He thought it much more likely that Sherlock was judging John favorably for having grown up in such an environment and planning to make something of himself. John rushed through gathering things, hoping that his parents wouldn’t come home while they were there.

They made it out of the house without incident and stopped by the local Chinese restaurant for dinner. They were laughing and joking with each other as they ate, already like old friends. John was happy: he felt like he had finally made a friend who truly understood him, a friend he could happily spend most of his free time with. He liked the lads from school, but they weren’t the sort of people he wanted to spend that much time around. They were friendly enough, sure, and they all seemed to like him, but he could only handle so much of their company before his eyes tried to roll out of their sockets. 

Sherlock was just putting some money down on the table for the meal as they were preparing to leave, when everything was ruined.

“Being charitable, Watson?” a voice asked behind him and John noticed Sherlock stiffen in his seat uncomfortably.

John turned to see Philip Anderson, one of the few people at school that he couldn’t stand. “What, Anderson?”

“Having dinner with Holmes. Is it your turn to be charitable?”

“Sod off, Anderson.”

“Hey, it’s John!” Sally Donovan said, walking up. Her eyes narrowed when she saw who he was with. “What are you doing with the Freak?”

“Don’t call him that, Sally,” John said in a quiet voice. He liked her, but he wasn’t afraid to tell her off if she didn’t cut it out. “He has a name.”

“I think we interrupted a date,” Anderson said, looking between the two of them.

“No, John wouldn’t date him. Just last week he was saying how strange he was,” Sally said, looking at John hard.

John turned to look at Sherlock, whose face was showing no emotion. “I need to get home,” Sherlock said, standing and leaving abruptly.

“I said no such thing!” John said to Sally. “Is your life so miserable that you need to ruin everyone else’s as well?”

“So this is a date?” she asked, looking shocked.

“No, this is two friends having dinner,” John told her, standing and picking up his bag. “Sometimes mates like to go out to eat. Sex doesn’t have to be involved in every interaction.” He stormed out of the restaurant, leaving Anderson and Sally standing there awkwardly.

John looked around for Sherlock. He saw his friend walking away quickly, his head down and his hands in his pockets. John hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and ran after him. “Sherlock!” he called.

Sherlock ducked his head and sped up. Cursing, John ran at his top speed, finally catching Sherlock on his doorstep.

“It’s fine, John,” Sherlock said, avoiding his gaze. “I understand that I’m odd.”

“Sherlock, I didn’t say that!” John panted, leaning on the house and trying to catch his breath. 

“You didn’t?” Sherlock’s eyes were big and sad and John wanted to go back and punch Sally in the face.

“No, of course not! Some people were talking about you and I said ‘You might think he’s strange, but you needn’t be so mean.’” John hoped Sherlock realized the difference between what Sally said and what he had actually said.

“You don’t think I’m strange?”

John smiled. “Well, you are. But in a good way. I like that you’re strange. And I certainly wouldn’t talk to those idiots about you like that.”

Sherlock smiled warmly. “Good. Sorry I ran off like that. I normally don’t care what people think, but…”

“I understand. It’s different when it’s what your friends think.”

Sherlock opened the door and held it open for John, who smiled and walked in. He was pleased that he was able to clear the situation up without any more trouble and made a mental note to figure out a way to pay Anderson and Sally back for causing a problem.

That night, John awakened in the middle of the night. He wasn’t sure what had woken him, until he heard Sherlock, who was facing away from him, moan. He froze, sure that Sherlock was asleep. Yes, he was snoring lightly between moan. He must be having a nice dream, John thought with a smile, wondering who Sherlock was dreaming about. He noticed that his own cock was perking up at Sherlock’s moaning and he tried to think of anything that would stop him from getting an erection.

After a few minutes, during which John tried, unsuccessfully, to make his own interest go away, Sherlock’s moans increased in intensity and volume until he let out a cry and his body spasmed. John sat up, wondering what had happened. Sherlock calmed down and shifted slightly and John realized what had happened.

Ah. So it was that kind of dream. John let out a short laugh before he could stop himself, which made Sherlock shift and start to roll over. He froze, presumably as he woke up enough to realize what happened.

John couldn’t help himself, he laughed again. “Good dream, mate?” he asked.

“I’m so sorry, John,” Sherlock said, sounding embarrassed.

“Don’t be. It happens to the best of us.”

“Did I say anything embarrassing?”

“No, you weren’t exactly saying words.” John laughed again and fell back against his pillow. “Are you going to go clean up?”

Sherlock covered his face and dragged himself from the bed. When he came back, he looked at John reproachfully. “How long are you going to laugh at me about this.”

“Sorry, Sherlock. It isn’t really funny. I’m sure if it happened to me, I’d be embarrassed. But really, don’t worry about it. It happens.”

“Yes, but it happened to me, not you,” Sherlock said quietly, lying back down in bed.

“What were you dreaming about?” John asked, staring up at the ceiling.

“What?” Sherlock turned to look at him, shocked by the question.

John shrugged. “I was just curious. It must have been a nice dream.”

“It was...just...this boy,” Sherlock mumbled, looking away.

“Anyone I know?”

Sherlock shook his head, his eyes wide, his lips pressed tightly together.

“Okay. You don’t have to tell me about it. But if you like this boy, you should tell him.”

“Why? So he can make fun of me like everyone else does?”

“Not everyone is like that, Sherlock. Maybe he likes you, too, and is afraid to say anything.”

“No, he’s not gay.” Sherlock sounded sad and John wanted to reach out and hold him, but he thought that might make things awkward.

“I’m sorry. That’s rough.”

Sherlock sighed. “Thank you, John.”

“For what?”

“For being my friend.”

John smiled. He reached out and put his hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, trying to be comforting. Once it was there, he found that he didn’t want to let go, so he left it. He fell asleep like that, with the barest of contact between him and Sherlock.

***

The next day, when Sherlock was allowing John to take a shower, John thought about his reaction to hearing Sherlock’s wet dream the night before. He supposed that it was normal to become aroused when witnessing someone else’s orgasm, but he was sure that his curiosity about what caused the orgasm wasn’t normal.

He thought about Sherlock, his head thrown back in pleasure, moaning. He knew that he hadn’t been able to see Sherlock very well the night before, but he could imagine what it would look like. The moans he had heard rang in his ears and before he knew it, he was stroking himself. Trying to stifle himself, in case Sherlock could hear in the attached bedroom, he let himself go, stroking fast and hard while thinking about Sherlock. 

Wondering what Sherlock’s cock looked like, he grunted with the effort of trying to remain silent, letting one or two little moans out as he thought about how it might feel to have Sherlock’s cock in his mouth, to be the one causing Sherlock to make those sexy moans.

His release came when he imagined that Sherlock had been dreaming about John. His seed splattered against the shower wall that he leaned against as he panted, trying to get himself together so he could go out and spend time with his friend.

If Sherlock had any idea what John had done in the shower, he said nothing, and if he noticed a telltale blush on John’s cheeks when they made eye contact, he remained silent.

***

Monday, when they went to school, rumors were flying. They walked in together, because John had stayed at Sherlock’s house again. Sherlock’s parents were still out of the country and John’s parents still didn’t care about where he stayed, so they didn’t see a reason not to have another sleepover. John was worried about what everyone was going to say when they got in and how Sherlock was going to react. Sherlock didn’t care what other people thought, but he seemed jumpy about his friendship with John.

They were walking together, heading to class, when someone shouted, “Hey John, how’s the missus?”

“The missus?” Sherlock asked in a low voice.

“I think he means you, Sherlock,” John said, making a rude gesture at the boy.

“I’m sorry about this. You making friends with a gay kid is doing nothing for your social standing.”

“I don’t give a toss about my social standing. And anyway, I thought we weren’t talking about that?”

“Well, they all know anyway.”

John squeezed Sherlock’s arm warmly when they reached his classroom. “It’s okay. They’re not saying anything they haven’t said before, right?”

“They are to you.”

“And I couldn’t care less about their opinions.”

Sherlock smiled. “I’ll see you after school?”

“Yeah. You promised to help me with my chemistry work, remember?”

They parted and John knew that they were both in for a miserable day. He hoped that the brunt of the attacks would fall on his shoulders, not wanting Sherlock to be hurt because of his friendship with John.

He sat down in his first class and Molly Hooper, a girl he thought was very nice, turned to him. “Is it true about you and Sherlock?”

“Oh, Molly, not you too,” he groaned. “We’re just friends.”

“Oh. I just thought you might want to know, I think he fancies you.”

“What? No, we’re friends.”

She didn’t look like she believed him. “If you say so. I just saw you two this morning and the way he was looking at you. It looks like he fancies you.” She turned back around and began a conversation with someone else.

John looked down at his desk, frowning. He was sure she was wrong, but what if she wasn’t? Could Sherlock fancy him? Someone as beautiful and sexy as Sherlock would surely not fancy anyone so commonplace as John. John was okay for the boring girls at school, but there was no way that someone as amazing as Sherlock could ever fancy him.

Why was he upset by that thought? He was straight, he shouldn’t care that Sherlock wouldn’t be interested in him. He should be relieved, if anything.

Why, then, did he feel so disappointed?

The day went on much the same, with people shouting rude things at him every chance they got. Lunch was so bad that he wanted to go home and skip the rest of the day. He needed a break, so he asked to go to the toilet. He took his time and walked to the toilet on the other side of the building, hoping that things would calm down while he was gone.

When he went into the toilet, he heard what sounded like someone crying in one of the cubicles. “Are you okay in there, mate?” he asked.

“John?” Sherlock’s voice asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah. What’s wrong?” John asked, suddenly alarmed.

The cubicle door opened to reveal Sherlock, wiping tears away from red eyes. “Nothing.”

“What happened?” John asked, his hands closing into fists. “Who said what to you?”

“It’s really nothing. People are being idiots, like always. Is it so surprising? I’m rather ashamed at this unnecessary show of emotion.”

John put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and smiled at him. “I’m going to have an unnecessary show of emotions with my fists. Who upset you like this?”

Sherlock smiled. “It really doesn’t matter. The day is almost over. Hopefully it will be better from here on out.”

John felt terrible. Sherlock wouldn’t have been so harassed if he had made friends with anyone else, but because he had become friends with John, he was being teased by everyone. It wasn’t fair that John finally had a good friend and people were trying to destroy him for it. Could people really be so jealous of John’s friend that they would make him suffer like that?

On impulse, he pulled Sherlock into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, mate. I don’t know why they’re doing this.”

Sherlock stiffened noticeably and then relaxed, sighing and putting his arms around John and squeezing tightly. “Your friendship is worth it.”

John smiled, glad that Sherlock wasn’t considering ending the friendship over being tortured at school. Hopefully everything would settle down when people realized that they were just friends and it was no big deal for two boys to be friends.

He realized that the hug was lasting well past when normal friendly hugs ended, but he didn’t care. It felt right to hold Sherlock, so that’s what he was doing. The hug was going to end soon enough anyway, there was no reason to rush it.

Just as he was about to pull away, the door opened. He stepped away from Sherlock and turned to see Anderson standing there with a nasty grin on his face.

“Ah, did I interrupt something? I do apologize. Don’t worry, I’ll come back when you two gents are done.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Anderson,” John said, annoyed. “I’ll see you after school, Sherlock.”

Sherlock nodded and John walked out of the loo, waiting by the door to see if he could hear what Anderson would say to Sherlock.

“Did I interrupt your fantasy that you could turn John gay? I bet you’re loving all the rumors about you two. I’m sure it gives you all sorts of nasty fantasies to think about late at night.”

John had heard enough. He opened the loo door, grabbed Anderson and spun him around, and punched him square in the nose. Anderson fell to the floor, clutching his face and John resisted the urge to kick him as well.

“Leave my friend alone, Anderson, or a punch on the nose will be the least of your problems.” He grabbed Sherlock’s wrist and pulled him out of the loo, striding away.

“John, my class is in the other direction,” Sherlock said after a moment.

John turned on Sherlock and pushed him up against the wall. He stepped close to him, making Sherlock’s eyes go wide. Resisting the urge to kiss Sherlock, to wrap his arms around Sherlock’s neck and kiss him all over, he leaned in close.

“Listen to me, Sherlock. You ignore all of them. Those idiots don’t know what they’re talking about. We’re friends and our friendship is important to me. I’ve never had a friendship that was so important. I’m not going to let stupid people ruin that, do you understand me?”

Sherlock nodded and John took a step back. “I’m sorry, Sherlock. It’s been a tough day.”

“I understand. Everyone knowing you’re friends with me had got to be hard.”

“That’s not why it’s rough,” John said, feeling sheepish for backing Sherlock into a wall. “I can’t stand the thought that they’re torturing you. It’s not fair. You deserve better than that.”

Sherlock smiled. “Any amount of torture is worth your friendship, John.”

John grinned. “We should get back. Your class is probably wondering about you and they’re bound to miss me from lunch eventually.”

***

Things did eventually settle down. Anderson didn’t tell anyone that John had punched him, which was good for John, as he didn’t have a brother working in the government to make the school keep him. Life went back to normal, or at least as normal as it could be while being best friends with Sherlock Holmes.

They spent most nights together at Sherlock’s house. John’s home life had been worsening steadily for years, so any excuse to avoid it was welcome. As long as he occasionally made an appearance or sent a text, his parents didn’t notice or care that he was gone. Similarly, Sherlock’s parents were unconcerned with his presence. He met them eventually, but they spent most of the time out of the country, traveling. They trusted Sherlock, and as he was doing extremely well in all of his classes, they didn’t care that his friend stayed over every night.

It was soon the summer holiday and they had nothing but free time to do nothing together and eat far too much takeaway. They spent nearly the entire holiday in Sherlock’s room, pretending the outside world didn’t exist.

One night, right near the beginning of the holiday, John wasn’t sleeping well. He shifted slightly as he awoke in the middle of the night and realized that Sherlock’s front was pressed against John’s back. It wasn’t unusual for the two of them to end up cuddling in the night. They normally ended up touching each other somehow, even though the bed was large enough that they didn’t need to touch at all.

This time was different, though. Sherlock was pressed tightly to John’s arse and he had an erection. Of course it was normal for him to have erections while he slept, all men did, but John had never felt it before. It felt nice, pressed against John, almost as if John had been the cause of it.

John had thought about Sherlock every time he had wanked since their friendship began. It was so common that he didn’t even think about it. He tried not to think what that meant about his sexuality, since he clearly could no longer claim to be straight. He had thought about nearly everything sexual that he could do with Sherlock, but he hadn’t thought he would ever be interested in Sherlock fucking him.

Now, though, with Sherlock’s erection pressed against his arse, it was all he could think about. He wondered what it would feel like, Sherlock’s cock filling him. Of course he knew that men enjoyed anal sex, there was no reason to do it otherwise, but he wasn’t sure exactly why they did. Imagining how good it could feel was useless, as he had no references for it. He shifted back slightly so he could feel more of Sherlock’s cock and let his hand brush against his own erection. It wouldn’t take more than a few strokes to bring himself off, but he thought that might be going a bit too far.

Temptation won out and he reached into his pants, grasping his eager cock tightly in his hand and groaning softly as he started stroking. As he had known, it was only a few moments and he was coming, trying desperately to not make a sound and certainly to not cry out Sherlock’s name.

As he came, he felt Sherlock shift slightly and he stilled, hoping that he hadn’t woken his friend up. Sherlock remained still, however, so John slid out of the bed and went to clean himself up.

When he climbed back in bed and settled himself where he had been, safely in the circle of Sherlock’s warmth. Sherlock shifted slightly and put his arm around John, muttering something in his sleep.

John smiled, finally feeling like he could fall asleep.

It was then that he knew he was in trouble.

***

A few mornings later, John woke up and Sherlock’s head was resting on his chest, with his arm around Sherlock’s shoulders. Sherlock was still snoring and he didn’t want to wake him, so he didn’t move. He pressed a quick kiss to Sherlock’s curls while he was still asleep, something he would never dare to do if Sherlock had been awake. He lay there for a while, absent-mindedly stroking Sherlock’s hair.

“Is this normal?” Sherlock asked.

John started and stilled his hand. He hadn’t realized that Sherlock was awake. “Is what normal?”

“This. We touch each other a lot. Every night we end up cuddling. Is it normal for friends?”

John considered the question for a moment. He briefly thought about lying and saying it was, but Sherlock would know if he was lying. “No, it’s not normal.”

Sherlock shifted, but rather than shifting away, he shifted towards John, almost nuzzling John’s chest. “Then why do we do it?”

“It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Sherlock nodded, making John smile as his hair tickled John’s chin. “But what does it mean?”

“Does it have to mean anything?”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything, it just does.” Sherlock looked up at John, his lips forming a small pout.

John smiled and reached up, running his thumb along Sherlock’s lower lip. “Soft,” he said quietly. He kept moving his hand, caressing Sherlock’s cheek and tracing his defined cheekbone with his thumb.

“John?” Sherlock asked, looking confused and gorgeous.

John decided to tell him. He decided to share everything he had been thinking for months, all of the thoughts he had running around in his head.

Of course, he said the wrong thing right off.

“You’re beautiful,” John said, staring at him.

Sherlock’s pout deepened and John was confused, wondering what he had done. “I’m not a girl, John.”

“What?”

“I’m not a girl. No matter how you’ve been seeing me, what’s in your imagination, I’m a boy.”

“Of course you’re a boy. How could I think you were anything else?” This was going wrong. He must have given Sherlock the wrong idea about his interest. He couldn’t remember expressing an interest in Sherlock, so he wasn’t sure exactly what he had done, but he needed to fix it.

“Well, the way you stare at my hair and my arse and call me ‘pretty’ and ‘beautiful’, I thought you might need reminding that I’m a boy and if you want someone to shag, you’ll need to find a girl.”

“Oh, no!” John exclaimed. Did Sherlock think that John wanted him as some kind of substitute for a girl? That was wrong. It had him so flustered that before he knew it, he was babbling things he never would have considered saying to anyone, especially Sherlock. 

“Sherlock, I know you’re a boy. That’s very obvious to me when I’m wanking and thinking about you fucking my mouth or the other night, when I couldn’t stop but think how nice it would feel to have your cock in my arse.” He stared at Sherlock when he realized what he had said.

Sherlock’s eyes were huge. “You what?”

“What?” John asked, starting to panic. He wished he could go back to sleep and wake up all over again.

“You wank while thinking about having my cock in your mouth?”

John blushed furiously. “Well, I’ve never done anything like that and I think it might be nice.” He looked away, unable to make eye contact when admitting to something like that.

“And the other night?”

“I may have wanked in bed while you were pressed up against me. It felt so nice having you there and you were hard, which isn’t odd while sleeping, and—”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Sherlock said, looking away as John’s eyes snapped back to look at Sherlock. “I was, at first, but then you shifted and I realized how hard I was and how we were lying. I almost said something, but then you started touching yourself and I couldn’t ruin it.”

“You were awake for that?”

Sherlock nodded, finally locking eyes with John. “It was so hot, John.”

John threaded his fingers through Sherlock’s curls and pulled him into a kiss. He had never been so aggressive before, but he needed to feel Sherlock’s lips, to kiss the boy he wanted so much.

“I want you so badly,” John panted as they broke apart, Sherlock resting his forehead on John’s cheek. “I’ve wanted you so badly all these months. It’s been all I could do to not jump you every day.”

“Why didn’t you say something? I thought maybe you were just a regular frustrated boy. I didn’t realize that you actually wanted me. I thought I was here, so you used me as a placebo for a girl.”

“Oh, Sherlock, I could never do that to you,” John said, tilting Sherlock’s face up so he could kiss him again. “You could never be a replacement for a girl. You’re so perfect and gorgeous, of course I want you. And you’re so brilliant. How could I not fall in love with you?”

“F-fall in love?” Sherlock asked nervously.

John mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t meant to say anything like that to Sherlock. Now he had probably scared him off, talking about love. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that, but I do. I love you.”

Sherlock smiled, bringing a gentle hand up to John’s cheek and kissing him gently. “I love you, too, John. I’ve thought I was going mad these past few months, always so close to you but never being able to kiss you or touch you how I wanted.”

As if to demonstrate, he ran his hand down John’s neck to his chest, then to his stomach and finally the waistband of his pants. His eyes were questioning and John nodded, wanting to feel Sherlock touch him so badly.

Sherlock slid his pants down, revealing John’s erect cock. He licked his lips as he looked at it, running his hand gently up its length and then tightening his hand and beginning to stroke.

John could barely believe that this was happening. He had never thought that he would be lucky enough to do something like this with Sherlock. Sherlock had never shown any sort of interest in John, always talking about the boy he fancied, who was straight. John hadn’t guessed that he was the boy, the one who Sherlock had wet dreams about and sighed wistfully about. John moaned with pleasure as Sherlock stroked him, amazed that he was getting the chance to experience this, in awe that Sherlock wanted to give him this type of pleasure. He could now do what he had never dared do when he was wanking in the shower and said Sherlock’s name over and over, moaning it and panting it when he neared his orgasm. As he hit his climax, he couldn’t help but shout one last “Sherlock!” closing his eyes as he came all over his stomach and Sherlock’s hand. He lay there for a moment, panting, and then opened his eyes to see Sherlock staring at him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“John, you…you really do love me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, you daft git. I love you so much.” To illustrate, he leaned forward and kissed Sherlock, pressing him back into the pillows and climbing on top of him. He propped himself up on his forearms, which were on either side of Sherlock’s head. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” Sherlock breathed, his eyes impossibly large.

John leaned in for another kiss. “Can I taste you? I’ve been dying to know what you taste like.”

“God, John, I don’t care what you do as long as you do it now,” Sherlock growled, bucking his hips up.

John grinned and kissed his way down Sherlock’s jaw to his neck. He bit gently, chuckling when Sherlock let out a low moan and then continued kissing down Sherlock’s chest and stomach, finally stopping when he reached the waistband of Sherlock’s pajama bottoms.

He looked at the tented material in front of him and nuzzled it, feeling Sherlock’s erection press against his nose and mouth. His mouth watering, he pulled the bottoms down just far enough to get his mouth on the cock trapped underneath.

It didn’t feel like he expected. Sherlock’s cock was on the larger side of average, far too large for John to keep in his mouth without getting an ache in his jaw. He settled for licking and kissing it, finally slipping the tip of it into his mouth and sucking gently.

After experimenting with how far he could get it to go down his throat without gagging, he was sucking gently on the tip again when Sherlock cried out a warning. Curious, John sucked harder as a thick, viscous substance exploded into his mouth, leaking out of Sherlock in spurts. John struggled to keep up with swallowing all of it, letting a little dribble out of his mouth and onto his chin and he swallowed.

When it was over, he kissed the tip of Sherlock’s penis and tucked it safely away in his pajama bottoms, before sitting up and looking at Sherlock. He swiped his hand across his chin, wiping up what he had spilled and licked it off his finger without thinking about the gesture.

Sherlock gasped at that, his eyes half closed with lust as he looked at John. “You are so sexy, John Watson.”

John blushed and smiled like he always did when Sherlock used his full name, reaching down and running his hands over Sherlock’s hips, something he had been dying to do.

“Nowhere near as sexy as you, Sherlock Holmes.”

***

They spent the rest of the holiday barely leaving Sherlock’s room, spending much of their time in bed, exploring each other’s bodies. By the time they needed to return to school, they had tried every sexual thing they could imagine and a few they found on the Internet. John and Sherlock certainly made up for lost time, having more sex than either of them ever dreamed possible, their teenage libidos working overtime.

The first day back at school, they were nervous. John had texted Molly Hooper, telling her that he and Sherlock were a couple and to spread the word around. They had decided that course of action was best, as it would save them tiresome conversations where they had to explain for the hundredth time that they were a couple and yes, Sherlock was gay, and no, John was not gay, he was bisexual. They figured that this way, people would have such a clear picture about what was happening, thanks to their vivid imaginations, that explanation would be unnecessary.

They were wrong.

Having decided that public displays of affection were not their type, but wanting to be clear that they were, in fact, a couple, they decided to hold hands on the way into school. John held his head high, an easy smile on his face as he held Sherlock’s clammy, nervous hand. John nodded and waved at his friends as he walked Sherlock to his first class.

At the doorway, he looked Sherlock square in the eye his hand resting gently on Sherlock’s cheek, one of his favorite places to touch on Sherlock. “If anyone gives you a hard time, you let me know, yeah? I’ll take care of it.”

“I don’t want you to get into trouble,” Sherlock told him, chewing on his bottom lip.

“You didn’t have a problem with that when you were trying to blow up the school a few months ago,” John said with a grin.

Sherlock blushed and muttered, “I didn’t know you were there.”

“Oh, you knew perfectly well that I was watching you, you little tease.”

John couldn’t help himself, he leaned forward and gave Sherlock a brief kiss on the lips, murmuring “I love you,” before leaving him and heading to his own class.

John’s good mood didn’t last long, as several people stopped him in the hallway to question him about his new relationship. He confirmed over and over that yes, he was dating Sherlock, yes, Sherlock was gay, no, John was not gay, he was bi. Some of the girls were quite nasty about it, saying petty things about Sherlock, no doubt out of jealousy, and causing John to warn them that he wouldn’t stand any negative talk about his boyfriend.

“So I was right,” Anderson said, appearing out of nowhere in the lunch room.

“Go away, Anderson,” John said, not looking up from the school work he was doing.

“So tell me, is the sex good at least? I bet the Freak just loves to have your cock down his throat, doesn’t he?”

John looked up to see that a group of people had gathered around to see the exchange. He knew that an attack like this was coming, so he had discussed with Sherlock what he was allowed to say. Sherlock had given him permission to say whatever he wanted, and John had thought up a few things to say that would hopefully scare Anderson away.

“Actually, Sherlock doesn’t like that much. I, on the other hand, love to choke on his cock. It’s rather large, you see, and I love when he fucks my mouth so hard I gag. I can get off just from that.” He smiled and waited for Anderson’s response.

Whatever Anderson had expected, it clearly wasn’t what John had said. He stared at John for a few moments, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, and then walked away, silently shaking his head.

“Really?” Sally Donovan asked him staring.

John laughed. “Yes, Sally, really. Sherlock’s awfully talented with his cock. It’s a shame we didn’t start dating sooner, I missed out on months of really spectacular sex.”

She blinked at him and then walked away as well, followed by the rest of the group, most of whom were laughing or chattering about what John had said.

When John met Sherlock at the front of the school at the end of the day, Sherlock gave him a strange look. “What did you say to Anderson? Not only did he not act like an idiot today, he completely ignored me. It was wonderful. And everyone seemed in on a good secret about me.”

John left, taking his hand and starting to walk back to Sherlock’s house. “Let’s just say, tales of your prowess are starting to circulate around the school.”

“You told him I was good in bed?”

“Something like that. It may have sounded more like I was saying that I like to choke on your huge, talented cock so much that I get off on it.”

Sherlock laughed. “Well, that’s one way to ruin your reputation, John.”

“Yes, but it’s also a way to make yours.”

“I love you, John Watson.”

“And I love you, Sherlock Holmes.”


End file.
